World of Horror: Man Door Hand Hook Car Door
by JOfHearts
Summary: America and Russia pull in to a lover's lane for some saucy, late night fun. Unbeknownst to them, something sinister is lurking in the dark. This night definitely won't go as planned. (Part of J's October Hetalia Horror Series.) Warning for violence. RusAme.


**World of Horror**

**Man Door Hand Hook Car Door**

One thing Russia learned in his time knowing America was that the young nation often did things on a whim. The most fleeting thought could suddenly capture his interest and he was off chasing the idea before it could fully form.

One thing Russia learned in his time dating America was that if he wasn't careful, he could easily get swept up along with his lover when these times came. This actually happened more often than not, as America's eyes were full of enthusiasm and wonder when he looked at him and Russia was so very weak to their imploring gaze. Russia usually didn't mind it, though, as he could say for certain that there was never a dull moment if America was involved. Even if the adventure led to disaster, it was sure to be interesting.

This was why Russia wasn't too bothered when, at ten in the evening, America suddenly ushered him into his car and drove them out into the American countryside, a determined glint in his eyes.

Their final destination, however, did pique his interest.

"What exactly are we doing here?" Russia wondered as America pulled off of the highway and onto a secluded stretch of road surrounded by trees. The road was made of gravel, the car rumbling unevenly as America slowly drove them further into the trees, until the lights from the highway nearby could no longer be seen.

"You ever heard of a lover's lane?" America asked him, his playful grin lit almost ethereally by the colored lights of the dashboard. It was then that America brought the car to a stop and turned off the engine, plunging them into darkness.

Russia's eyebrows rose and he blinked into the darkness, "you drove us forty minutes from your home and into a forest for sex?" he asked, looking over at America who had already unbuckled his seat belt.

From the amount of moonlight shining down on them from the sky above, he could just make out America's face as he scratched his cheek, looking embarrassed, "well, maybe not _that_ far...but yeah!"

Russia tilted his head, "I do not understand. Why could we not just do these things in the house?"

America rolled his eyes, turning in his seat to face him as he put on an air of exasperation, "c'mon, Ivan, where's your sense of adventure? You gotta live bold sometimes, man! You gotta be daring!"

Russia could only offer his lover a confused smile. He didn't really get what was so bold and daring about groping around blindly in a car that was just a bit too cramped for his large frame but he figured it couldn't hurt to humor him. "If you say so, Fredka," he said, his tone teasingly patronizing.

"Whatever, man," America scoffed, then rose in his seat, reaching over and bracing a hand against the back of the passenger seat. He began to awkwardly scramble his way over to Russia's side and into the older nation's lap, "now lemme just- ouch, damn it- get over there… ha, did it!"

Russia couldn't help the giggles that escaped him at America's less than graceful display, gleefully offering no help at all. America had to duck his head down a little as he settled in Russia's lap, too tall to sit up straight in the car. His laughter abated somewhat as America shifted appealingly on top of him.

America's hands drifted to Russia's cheeks, his eyes shining with good humor, "you can be such a dick sometimes, you know that?" there was an edge of laughter in his voice.

"You've told me this many times, yes," Russia replied, resting his hands on America's outer thighs.

America laughed, not his usual boisterous laugh, but something softer, more affectionate. In this dark and close space, all sound seemed amplified anyway.

The conversation having died down and America made the first move. The younger man dipped his head down, kissing along Russia's jawline, a hand sliding into Russia's pale hair. His other hand pressed against Russia's broad chest, caressing upwards to his shoulder and running back down along his arm, his fingers pressing into the muscle beneath the fabric gently, exploring the familiar layout.

A pleased sigh escaped Russia's lips as he nuzzled into America's silky hair, taking in the scent of his own shampoo that the blond occasionally used. His hands drifted along America's strong thighs, up his sides and to his waist, up and down, taking in the comforting warmth of his lover's body. Then his thumb pressed into a particular spot on the blond's hip, one of many spots he knew by memory, and as expected, America gasped, his mouth briefly leaving Russia's skin. Russia took the opportunity to capture America's lips in a slow kiss, his eyes fluttering closed.

Russia was unsure of how long they carried on for, kissing and caressing in the dark, but they were suddenly harshly interrupted by a bright light shining right at their faces from beyond the passenger side window.

"Shit!" America flinched from the suddenly brightness, shielding his eyes as the light went between him and Russia. "What gives!?"

Russia squinted against the light, and in a brief moment where the light flickered away from his eyes, he was able to spot a tall figure just outside of the car. In that figure's hands was the source of the light, a high powered flashlight. Just as he was able to get a good look, the light went out, and his unaccustomed eyes were blind in their return to darkness.

"I saw a person," he told America quietly.

"What the hell are they doing all the way out here?" America asked, sounding irritated.

"I am wondering the same thing," said Russia.

The flashlight was turned back on, this time coming from the other side of the car. Their heads turned in the direction, only for the light to turn back off. A few seconds later, the light came from behind them.

"Perhaps they are toying with us," Russia pondered.

"What, like trying to scare us?" America scoffed, his tone bland.

"Da," for the most part, Russia was mainly curious as to what this person thought they were up to, and he could tell America was less than impressed. Maybe if they were humans, if they had not between them seen some of the worst horrors history had to offer, this little game with a stranger and their flashlight would be unnerving, maybe even frightening in this isolated location. But they were not human, and it was getting rather annoying having a bright light shined in their eyes every ten seconds.

When the light went off again, a good amount of time passed. "Huh, think they're gone?" America asked. He leaned and twisted to the side, reaching over to the driver's side and turning on the headlights, illuminating some of the surrounding area.

Russia looked up, peering around America, "ah, they are in front of the car now."

America braced a hand against Russia's front and looked back over his shoulder curiously. Sure enough, there stood a man. He was dressed in all black, and had a makeshift hood with the eyes cut out pulled over his head. In one hand was the flashlight, in the other, he held a meat hook.

"Is he holding a hook-?"

America suddenly let out a horrified gasp.

The man had brought the sharp tip of the hook down against the hood of America's car, dragging it along menacingly and leaving behind a terrible scrape.

"Oh _hell no_, he's ruining Bethany's paint job!" America cried indignantly, and before Russia could react, America had thrown the door to the car open and was scrambling off of his lap and out of the car.

"Alfred-" Russia sighed, unable to stop the other nation. Always the hot temper with this one. With a roll of his eyes, he began to follow his lover out of the car.

America was getting into the stranger's face, gesturing to the scraped up hood in outrage. If the man had been hoping to scare him, it definitely hadn't worked, "I hope you know you'll be paying to get that fixed, asshole- arrgh!"

The man's arm swung out, the hook slashing crudely through the flesh of America's throat. The blond sank to the ground, his hand pressing to his neck as blood poured from the wound.

In the next instant Russia found himself standing before America, one hand wrapped around the stranger's throat as he held the man off of the ground with ease. The man was making the most delightful noises of agony, and Russia noticed that he was no longer holding the hook. In fact, the arm that had been holding it was horrifically broken. Had he done that? Nevermind, he'd figure that out later. Now…

Russia smiled cruelly, slamming the man down onto the hood of America's car, "that was a mistake, friend," he told the struggling form before him. With his free hand, he tugged the man's hood off, taking in the pure, animalistic fear in those eyes. "A very big mistake."

**-oAPHo-**

Nations healed very quickly from wounds not related to what they represented. America had healed quickly enough to be able to stop Russia from beating his attacker to death, but just barely.

He'd insisted they call the police, and Russia would never understand why, but he agreed.

Now Russia was sat beside a hospital bed occupied by America, the younger nation with bandaging over what remained of a once horrific neck wound. They'd been questioned by the police, told they were lucky to be alive- Russia had held back a snort, because they were not the ones in this situation that were lucky to be alive- and that the man that attacked them was likely the "Hook Hand Killer," a serial killer that had been hunting young couples at local hook up points.

"If you hadn't managed to hit him with your car-" the gruff weathered sheriff with the handlebar mustache began, referencing the cover story America had put forth to cover up for the fact that the man's extensive list of injuries had been achieved by bare hands and unnatural strength, "-well, I reckon the two of you'd be in the morgue right about now."

"We are very fortunate, then," Russia smiled sweetly, making the man shift uncomfortably on his feet. There was still a lot of residual aggression coursing through his veins, causing him to give off an intimidating aura he couldn't, and didn't particularly want to, reign in. If only America had let him kill that man.

"I suppose you must be tired after such a terrifying experience," the sheriff said after clearing his throat. He adjusted his belt and nodded his head to them, already inching his way out of the room. It was clear he no longer wished to be in the same room with Russia. "I'll just let y'all get your rest."

And with that, the man made a hasty retreat.

America let out a big sigh, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, tonight didn't play out the way I thought it would, but at least we caught the bad guy!" America gave Russia a winning smile.

It was then that a thought struck Russia.

America's sudden urge to drag him out at night to a lover's lane-

A lover's lane an inconveniently long distance away from his home-

In an area where a killer was said to be targeting couples meeting up in such places-

_No._

_He_ _didn't._

"Did you plan this?" Russia asked America incredulously, his eyebrows raised almost all the way to his hairline.

"What? No! Don't be silly, ahaha..." America's eyes flickered away from Russia's face as he chuckled nervously. His face displayed the most guilty expression Russia had ever seen on a man in all of his centuries on the planet.

_H__e did_.

And people thought _he_ was the insane one in the relationship, Russia couldn't help but think with a shake of his head. Well, perhaps he was, but America was equally insane with his ridiculous hero complex and the lengths to which it took him.

"Anyways, do you wanna get some ice cream after I get out of here? I'm kind of feeling like ice cream..." America began to prattle on, clearly trying to distract Russia from the previous line of conversation and failing miserably.

Russia could only let out a half-exasperated laugh.

No, there was never a dull moment with America.

_**A/N: What an unexpected turn of events. One must always be careful when dealing with strangers, you never know what someone's capable of. **_

_**Thus concludes another short tale of suspense and spook. Do keep an eye out for the next story to keep you cold during this wretched, most terrifying month.**_

_**Until next time, my delicious deviants.**_

_**Unpleasant Dreams~**_

_**P.S.- I had something more serious in tone in mind when I sat down to write this story, but I want to keep this series of stories to a T rating, and that definitely wouldn't have been, so I'll save it for another time. **_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

_**Take Care,**_

_**J**_


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